Schizophrenia
by oODaniJadeOo
Summary: The voices are never there to help. Only to hurt. Nicolette Connors is a patient in a mental facility. Her ailment is schizophrenia. Her only escape is her music. Specifically, the music of her beloved musical, The Phantom of the Opera. What will happen when the world becomes too much, and her hallucinations go so far as to create a whole other life for her?
1. Introduction

_It's a shame, really… You could have done so much with your life… But you're_ _ **worthless**_ _._

"No! Stop! Please…" I screamed and thrashed. The leather straps dug into my arms and ankles. My skin, a blistered, raw red. I couldn't escape. But after so much thrashing, so much struggle, nerve damage kicks in. If you feel nothing, what is there to stop you?

 _Harder… Break your wrists! Then they'll drug you even more! Maybe even add more straps..._

I heard the soothing violin melodies in my head… It's much kinder than the voices. Why couldn't it always be that way? The music calms and soothes. It keeps me going. But the voices put me here. All they do is yell and scream and _hurt and hurt and hurt._ They hurt me. They tell me to hurt myself. They tell me to hurt the one's I care about. All they care about is _hurt._

Sometimes, I think about just ending it all. There would be no more voices. No more restraints. No more hurt. I would be free, I could be my own person. They would be out of my head.

But the music would leave.

My music is what keeps me going. Hoping that just one day they'll let me go. One day, I'll be able to play my violin again. I can still hear the melodies in my head. The never-ending melodies. The only solace I have is a small CD player in the corner of my room. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to. It"s just one disc playing on repeat. The soundtrack of a musical. The Phantom of the Opera. It's beautiful. Haunting. Tortured.

I like to think sometimes that I'm a part of it. There for the one they shun. They would shun me too. He has his demons, I can tell. Maybe we would have some things in common.

I think I remember seeing it when I was younger… Before my demons awoke.

But that could just be my imagination.

That's what some people call the voices, a figment of my imagination.

If that's true, then why did they strap me to the bed in a psych ward?


	2. Chapter 1

"And how are we doing today, Nicolette?" The doctor, clad in white remorsefully asked. Clenching my fists, I pulled against the leather straps. The wrinkled and stressed brown, crinkling under the pressure.

"Mhmm…" He hummed, scribbling on his clipboard. I glared at him as he strolled leisurely around my hospital bed. It should really be called a casket. That's what it seems like, anyway.

I loathed the man with my entire existence. They call him a doctor, I prefer demon. The things they do to people, _human beings_ , it's inexcusable. Their actions are indescribable, fit for a horror novel. Even this white, barren cell of a room I live in seems like it's own little horror.

Except for one thing.

My music.

"I…" Swallowing, I tried to find the will to speak. "I have a request." Doctor Roberts' eyebrows raised, pronouncing each line of his forehead as he turned to me. "Oh?" He asked, surprised. "And what would that be? Not that I am obligated in any way to actually follow through with such a request… Especially if it's coming from one of your little," He tilted his head mockingly. "Imaginary friends."

I ground my teeth and clenched my fists, trying to hold in my rage. I wanted my simple request to be acted upon, and that would never happen if I lashed out now.

"I just request that my radio be moved closer." His face softened a bit. "I suppose that's simple enough.." He said as he brought it closer to my bedside. "I'm not totally heartless you know." He mumbled.

"Now then!" He grinned. "I'll be back for your electroshock treatment in about, oh…" He glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes."

"No! No! That helps nothing!" I screeched, thrashing and shaking the bed. I began to hear laughter in my head.

 _Won't this be fun! We get to see you squirm and writhe… And the screaming… What sweet music it is!_

I could feel the familiar sting in my eyes of forming tears. "I'll be back soon!" Roberts said wistfully.

"Why, why, why, why, WHY?" I repeated over and over again. My long black hair tangled as I thrashed my head from side to side.

Doctor Roberts returned and began placing the electrodes on different parts of my head and body. "Why do you do this? What is the purpose?" I whispered.

"We just want to get rid of those little friends of yours. Shall we start?" He said with a grin and flipped the switch.

My entire body tensed, I became conscious of each muscle in my body. It felt as if I was set aflame. Beads of sweat had begun to drip down my forehead. I almost believed an ax was striking my skull, the pain was so severe. My entire body was wracked with screams.

That's when I heard it.

That lone melody, reaching out to me through the pain. Through the tears.

The Music of the Night.


	3. Chapter 2

_Let the dream begin! Let your darker side give in, to that music which you know you cannot fight! And listen to the music of the night…_

My body had begun to convulse worse than ever before. Dr. Roberts must have upped the voltage to have a bit of _fun_. I screamed and screamed. At least it was loud enough to drown out the voices…

There was so much pain. It started to become too much. The old straps of the chair creaked as if they could only take so much more… _I_ could only take so much more.

I could see the edges of my vision gain a wavy black. It was like storm clouds rolling across the skies. It quickly overtook me and I gasped as I slumped over in my seat.

Everything went black.

I woke up to the sound of water and violin music.

The ground beneath me was hard and cold. My skull was pounding as I tried to lessen the stiffness of my limbs. That's when I realized it.

I could move.

I was free.

Freedom. Something I hadn't felt in years. Something I had nearly forgotten the feeling of. All I knew was bondage. Uncontrollable tears began to stream down my face. Except this time, that familiar burn wasn't from pain or sadness. It was from overwhelming joy.

I tried to sit up and soon realized I did not yet have the energy for such a simple action. Just the attempt showed to be too draining as the blackness overtook me once more. Only now, that sweet violin melody had come to a halt and heard footsteps advancing swiftly towards me.

"You're awake."

A familiar deep voice came from a tall, dark figure in the corner of the room in which I was being kept. I made another attempt at sitting up as to make myself better aware of my surroundings.

"I wouldn't recommend that, Mademoiselle." The figure warned, stepping closer. Close enough to see a face. A face guarded by a stark white, porcelain mask.

The command and a contradicting gentleness and harshness to it, as if the man wanted control, but was also trying to keep himself from frightening me. Almost as if I were a doe that could bolt at any moment. It was certainly enough to make me obey.

He wore a loosely fitting white shirt, a stark contrast to his jet-black hair. His silhouette was tall and foreboding. The porcelain mask reflected the candlelight more and more as he neared me. Sitting on the side of the swan-shaped bed, he pressed a cool cloth to my forehead and down my neck.

"Drink this." The said, grabbed a small cup from the dresser. He started to hold the cup to my lips when I spoke. "What's in it?" I turned slightly away from him, a natural reaction to years of being drugged against your will.

"It's an herbal tea. It will help with the pain and convulsions." He stated calmly. "Convulsions? What convulsions?"

"When you fainted, that's when they began. It's why I carried you here, so that you wouldn't injure yourself. Drink." I trusted him for now at least and nodded my head. My eyes met his and I realized I knew those eyes.

Those beautiful, striking green eyes. Those lonely eyes that held so much pain, so much sorrow. More than any person should have to bare.

I knew those eyes.

Those were _his_ eyes. The Phantom's eyes. Erik's eyes. Everything began to click and fall into place.

But how did I get here?

 **Author's note: So, how did Nicolette get into music's domain?... This is going to be such an interesting story to write. Also, this is my first POTO fanfiction so I hope I can do it justice. I was listening to the Love Never Dies soundtrack while writing this chapter. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. Please leave a comment, I love hearing from you guys.**

 **Farewell, my lovely freaks.**

 **Your faithful servant,**

 **Dani Jade**


	4. Chapter 3

I gagged and had to force down the herbal mix Erik gave me. I knew it would aid my recovery, but my body did not.

I still had no idea how I had gotten here.

One would think that a person would be panicking, frantic to discover the reason and how to get back to their world. But why panic when you have nothing to go back to? I don't remember much of the plot, but I do remember the music. That music that kept me going. His music. Here I can be free. This is enough.

But how do I explain my arrival?

How do I explain something even I don't understand?

When the contents of the delicate tea cup had been emptied, I set it on the bedside table.

"Now," He began. "I have several questions for you. Many of which revolve around the subject of how you ended up on my shore. Would you like to just start and save us the trouble of formalities?" In the time that he had said this, Erik had been slowly leaning forward in a threatening manner. Only it didn't ignite fear, but curiosity. I could just barely see under the edges of his porcelain mask. Bits of marred flesh shown through.

"Is your hearing damaged from having your head collide with the ground during a seizure?"

That certainly snapped me back into focus.

Sitting up a bit straighter, I tried to gather my thoughts.

"I… I'm not entirely sure I can explain that Monsieur," I stated. My voice wavered from fear of what his reaction might have been.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, mademoiselle?" He ground out, obviously not pleased with my answer.

"You see…" My voice still shook. Clearing my throat, I began again. "You see, I am unable to explain how I arrived," I paused, motioning to my surroundings. "Here."

He rose from the bed. "Well, even if you cannot explain it, I must return you to the surface. Get yourself ready." He said quickly, making his way out of the swan room.

"No, wait!" I exclaimed. He paused at the doorway, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"I can't. I have nowhere to go."

"You are homeless?"

I nodded silently, deciding to go with the simple lie. He sighed, "I suppose you could stay here until you can find somewhere to go." Turning, he motioned to the wardrobe. "You can find a change of clothes and nightgown in here. Rest and we shall make you arrangements in the morning."

I said my thanks as he turned to leave once more. Pausing, he turned to me once more.

"What is your name?"

"Nicolette. Nicolette Connors."

"You have a beautiful name Miss Connors, now sleep."

Little did I know that this world would soon come crumbling down.

 _ **Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's summer so that means updates will be more frequent and LONGER. I think a lot of people will be able to appreciate that. So many thanks to everyone that has read and reviewed this story. It absolutely makes my day to read everyone's thoughts. I want to give a huge shoutout to deanna37 for giving me some great encouragement for this story. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts on where the story will go!**_

 _ **Your obedient servant,**_

 _ **Dani Jade**_


	5. Chapter 4

I awoke to something beautiful. It was a haunting, unearthly melody. I was compelled to follow it.

Drawing back the curtain of my room, I was met with the sight of Erik sitting at his organ, composing. It was hypnotic. My legs moved without a thought towards the music. The notes transcended the bounds of normal music. It went beyond anything I had ever heard before.

I hadn't realized I had been standing motionless with my hand on Erik's shoulder, staring, until his gaze met mine.

"I see you're awake," Erik stated, emotionless. I jumped back in surprise.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, taking a step back. I looked at my feet and began to shake slightly, my anxiety getting the better of me. "I was lost in the music, I did not mean to disturb you."

"That's quite alright, Miss Connors." He said in a gentle voice. That's when I felt two rough, calloused fingers lift my chin. "Always keep your head held high," His eyes bore into mine. It felt as though he was looking into my soul and I prayed to God the old saying held no truth.

I didn't want him to see how… _damaged…_ how _worthless_ I truly am.

"Do you play?" He motioned to the organ.

"Oh, no," I paused. "I, um… I play the violin. Although I haven't had the chance to play in several years." They would never allow me out of my restraints long enough for such an act. I miss it.

"Would you like to?"

I nodded quickly, "Yes, very much so,"

He held up a finger and walked away, disappearing into another room with a slight smirk.

When he emerged from the room, he held in his hand a beautiful violin. The strings were dusted with rosin. It made me miss my own violin greatly. Then, he did as I had hoped and handed me the instrument.

"Play something for me."

I gazed at the instrument as I brought it to my shoulder. It felt like embracing an old friend. I was unsure of what to play, but then a song came back to my memory. One I've known for many years.

The Music of the Night.

I was a song I had thought I long forgotten how to play.

Apparently not.

I played with more emotion and feeling than ever before. It was as if all the years in that hospital, all the pain, all the sadness was just being poured out into the song. It took the years of pain and torture and turned it into something beautiful. It turned it into music. It turned it into joy. For the first time in many years, I felt at peace.

The final note rang through the air and echoed throughout the underground. I let out a sigh as if only then was I truly breathing. Truly alive.

I looked up at Erik. His expression was consumed by such a wide array of emotion that it was unreadable.

"How do you know how to play that melody?" He whispered.

He slowly stalked towards me. I set down the instrument and held up my hands in defense. "I can't quite explain it." I stuttered, slowly backing away.

Wrong choice of words.

"It seems as though you 'can't quite explain a lot of things,' Miss Connors." My back hit the wall.

"I suggest, Mademoiselle, that you begin to figure out how to explain things, lest you wish to return to the surface with a new necklace of rope," Erik growled. His hands and arms were now at the sides of my face against the wall, trapping me.

"I- I don't know, Monsieur." My voice shook uncontrollably. Yanking a Punjab lasso from a lever, Erik whipped it against the ground, almost like a warning shot.

"Well, I suggest you come up with something quickly!" He roared, his anger quickly rising. I then felt a sharp pain in my skull as my eyes rolled back into my head.

I lost control of my body and began to convulse violently. I could make out Erik cursing and saw him frantically reach for a pencil. He held down my tongue to keep me from choking and brushed my hair out of my face, trying to keep my head from banging against the ground. I slipped from his grasp and my vision faded to black.

"Wakey wakey, Miss Connors." I tried opening my eyes but quickly shut them, due to the bright light directly above me. "You didn't take to well to that therapy session… Blacked out on us."

No. It can't be.

I opened my eyes to the sight of Doctor Roberts. I thrashed my arms, feeling my familiar restraints. "No, no, no, no…" I pulled harder, praying to God they weren't real.

 _Did you think you could stay in your little dream world forever? Ha! As if you actually deserve to be happy… You're pathetic._

"No, this can't be real!" I shook as violently as I could manage, shaking the bed.

"I don't recommend that, Ms. Connors." Dr. Roberts said with his irritatingly nonchalant tone.

"No, no, no! I want to go back! Let me go back!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

"Ms. Connors, you need to settle down before I have you sedated," Roberts said firmly.

"I said I want to go back! Let me go back! LET ME GO BACK!" I screamed as loud as I could. Rage, fear, and disbelief igniting within me all at once.

"Nurse!"

I continued to scream. I refused to stop until I felt a needle stab my neck. After that, the only thing I could feel was the tears as they cascaded down my face.

The voices had returned.

And so had I.

 **Author's Note: Well… That was… intense, to say the least. This was definitely an interesting chapter to write. The ending definitely had me tearing up a bit.**

 **So, was it real or something Nicollette created? Will she find a way back to Erik's world? Or will she be stuck in the asylum for the rest of her life? Please leave your thoughts and theories in a review. I love hearing from each and every one of you.**

 **Your obedient servant,**

 **Dani Jade.**


	6. Chapter 5

I had returned to hell. Staring blankly at the ceiling was the only thing I had the energy to do. The sedative having not yet worn off entirely. The tears still flowed freely.

What had I done wrong?

What had I done to deserve this?

 _You didn't have to do anything at all, Nicolette… The universe just hates you!_ The voices laughed. I banged my head against the bed weakly. We weren't allowed pillows. They wouldn't dare leave you with something you could suffocate yourself with. There is no way out.

This had to just be some cruel, twisted joke. I had my taste of freedom and now it was gone. There was nothing that could be done. I looked over towards a barren wall, my radio still playing in the corner. Over and over and over, the music from Erik's world played on repeat.

When I entered his world, I began to have flashbacks. Memories from my childhood. Before I was trapped in this place…

It wasn't much, just bits and pieces like names and places. Erik, Giry, Christine, Meg, and Raoul. The last name came with a foul association, for some reason.

But now it's all meaningless. It was only a dream, a hallucination. Merely a coping mechanism created by my mind, and nothing more.

Except, that isn't true.

It was so much more than a dream.

It was freedom. It was peace. It was sanctuary. Anywhere but here, I could be happy. Away from the doctor, from this godforsaken hospital, and away from the voices. Wasn't that a miracle.

And it was ripped away from me. As quick as you could snap your fingers, I was back here in this hell hole. I suppose I'm just meant to live out my worthless life here. That must be all I'm meant to on this earth. Sit and rot and be tortured by the doctors, nurses, and even my own mind.

I glanced at the corner to see my radio still playing the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack on repeat. I felt tears begin once more. It was just a painful reminder of what could have been. The freedom that was _almost_ mine.

 _You stupid girl! Why would you ever think that you deserve freedom? You are nothing. You aren't even deserving to be released through death. You will never escape._

If I could only be free of _Them_ , that would be at least some form of relief. The voices have been with me since I was a small child. For as long as I can remember, really.

The door of my room creaked open as one of the nurses, Clara, entered my cell. She is the only one in this facility that has ever shown me anything other than exceptional cruelty. Not that it was necessarily kindness, but neutrality, at the very least.

"Can I," I swallowed, trying to gain the strength to speak. "Can I eat today?"

"You know Doctor Roberts has you on a fast." The nurse said in a quiet, timid voice without daring to meet my gaze. The only reason she came in was to check my restraints.

"Clara, I'm going to starve to death." We both knew Roberts wouldn't let his toy die. She said nothing in response. They don't worry about dehydration, They constantly have fluids flowing into each patient through an IV.

Roberts had had me going on a fast for a week now. He says it's a new treatment, but in actuality, it's just a new way for him to torture me. There is no substance to my body. All I am is thin skin stretched across frail bone. My hair used to be long and thick and full. Now it's thin and a lifeless dull black.

Clara left my room without a glance.

At least Roberts would leave me alone for now.

Erik's POV

 _What did I just witness?_

"This has to be some sort of sorcery…" I mumbled to myself as I stumbled backward. Leaning against a wall to support myself, I tried to process what exactly just happened. This girl just… _disappeared._ Of course, I've seen illusionists in my time in the traveling fairs, even I was capable of such acts, but this appeared to be much more than just a simple illusion.

There were no trap doors, I would know. Neither was there a curtain to hide behind. This girl that came out of nowhere just faded away right in front of my eyes. I didn't know what to think, and that was a fairly new concept to me.

Firstly, she appeared to have drowned in my lake like many before her, but for some reason, I was compelled to dive after her. As if some unknown voice had whispered in my mind, " _Go._ "

Once I found her to be alive, she was too weak to function and appeared to be prone to seizures. This poor child has probably been forced to go through several exorcisms by imbeciles who could not tell the difference between unearthly interference and interference of the mind.

When she awoke and could function, I naturally began to question her like any sane person would do. But then again, I'm not a particularly satisfactory example of that. Nicolette, she said was her name. There's no way of knowing if that were true, considering she oh so conveniently refused to answer every other simple question I asked of her. I had no idea who this girl was or where she came from! Why should I trust someone I knew nothing of?

She did answer one question though, that was if she had the ability to play. And play she did.

It was one of the most beautiful things I'd heard. It even managed to rival that of my sweet Christine. The emotion in which she poured from the violin, it had such a power that only a person that had known true suffering could produce.

It was the same emotion I played with.

But there was something very, _very_ wrong about her playing.

She was playing _my_ song.

It was the Music of the Night. The song I wrote for Christine. I had been meaning to bring her here tomorrow night.

 _How could she have known that song?_

There was no way she could have possibly heard it before, nor could she have seen the sheet music. She wasn't anywhere near it.

I was enraged. I needed information and I needed it then. She was a threat. When I began to question her once again, she continued to defy me and withhold answers. Had she been spying on me for the managers? What else did she know? Where did she even come from?!

At that moment, she proceeded to collapse to the ground and burst into another seizure. I tried to support her head so that she wouldn't injure herself further with her thrashing. That's when she just… faded out of existence.

I had no explanations.

But I _will_ gain them.

 **Author's note: Sorry for the long wait. There's a lot of garbage that's been going on lately but I really wanted to write and finally got the chance to. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and I would also like to clear up some confusion I've noticed. Yes, this takes place in modern times. No, this is not an accurate representation of mental institutions. This is a corrupt asylum that is run by a sadist doctor. I do have stories where I accurately represent them, but those stories are on Wattpad.**

 **I want to thank everyone who has been reviewing, I love to read each of those reviews and see all of your thoughts on the story.**


	7. Chapter 6

Roberts had gone on a vacation.

Or, at least, that's what the nurses told us.

In all honesty, it was most likely a court hearing. But those never went anywhere. He always bribed everyone involved and kept the cases on his side. This has gone on for years and none of us expected it to ever stop.

These were the few semi-peaceful days we had in the asylum. The screaming certainly decreased. Only the regular wails and laments of the damned.

During these brief periods of reprieve, we were able to sleep without having the fear of being woken up to some new torture method.

For the first time since I arrived in the asylum, I dreamed.

I was back at my home, in a time when everything was fine and peaceful. A time when I had a normal childhood. A time before the voices.

I ran through my yard, falling and skinning my knee. My parents both rushed to my aid, picking me up and tending to my wound. My mother kissed the band-aid she had just placed on the cut and held me tight. My father wiped my tears.

I was happy.

I was innocent.

But then the dream shifted.

I sat in a corner of my bedroom, my knees folded to my chest. I was screaming and sobbing, my fists pounded relentlessly against my skull.

"Get out of my head! Get out, get out, get out!"

My wrists had been slit. Words in dull red spelled out on one wall, "QUIET."

The wailing siren of an ambulance could be faintly heard over my screams.

The siren sounded off though, and continued to distort, the closer it came.

It turned into something different…

It was music.

I felt the hard bed beneath me and crushed my eyes together. I didn't want to wake up back in the asylum, but I knew it was coming. Tears started forming as I forced my eyes open, preparing myself for the painful fluorescent lights of my room.

Tearing my eyes apart, I was very pleasantly shocked by the fact that I was not in my room, but what I assumed to be another area of Erik's home. It was dark, all except for the soft glow of a single candle lighting the room. Through the crack of the door, I could hear Erik from the other room and what sounded like a crying girl. I assumed it was Christine, remembering her significance from the music.

"Come, you must return. For those fools who run my theatre will be missing you," Erik stated, almost indignantly. I waited for them to leave and even then, stayed in my room for a bit before entering the main area. I didn't want to antagonize Erik any further or spark a conflict while I've somehow managed to stay in this world.

I took my time to relish in the peacefulness of the lair, listening to the sounds of the underground lake and the crackling of the numerous candles spread throughout the area. It was truly beautiful.

Sheets of music and artwork were strewn across floors and walls. Books laid askew on random corners. A bust sat near the organ with a black mask spread across its face. The air smelled of candle wax and paper. It was the most serene I had been in a very long time, just basking in the haven that was Erik's home.

I spotted the violin where I had left it before and my fingers ached, longing to play it again. I started to reach for it, then remembered what took place only hours ago. Anxiety quickly began to build. My heart raced as my palms became sweaty and hands began to shake.

I didn't want to anger him again, I didn't want to go back to the hospital. If I angered him again, he might cast me out. What would I do then? I have no identity in this place. I have nowhere to go.

I soon became conscious of my heartbeat and erratic breathing. My mouth became dry and I tried to swallow. I made attempts to calm down my breathing, praying to God I didn't have a panic attack in that moment.

Braced against the wall, I waited for the oncoming panic attack to pass as I made attempts to slow my breathing. Finally able to stand on my own, I became determined to play the violin again, after all, he couldn't return that quickly.

Gingerly picking up the instrument, I placed it on my shoulder. My muscle memory thankfully kicked in as I placed my hand in the first position. I thought of what to play and decided on one of the few things I could remember from my childhood.

From before the asylum.

The song I settled on was Vivaldi's Concerto in A Minor. I remember being so excited to learn it when I was young. I began to play, although hitting a few wrong notes along shifting areas, but soon shut my eyes and relied solely on my memory.

Each movement of the piece was vastly different from the other. Each with its own imagery and story to tell. As I played through the third and final movement, I could clearly see two swordsmen in a graceful, quick paced duel. The battle was almost evenly divided by the opposing men and ended them as equals on the final note with an honorable bow as I finished the piece.

"I always preferred the second movement."

I gasped and nearly dropped the violin in my shocked state. I whipped around to face the voice of Erik coming from behind me. I stood there wide-eyed and sputtering as Erik began to speak again.

"It's rather short in comparison to the other two movements, but one can convey such powerful emotion within it," he circled me slowly, almost like an animal stalking its prey.

"You play wonderfully, Nicolette," he stated with sincerity, pausing his pacing. I stood there silently, trying to find words in my stunned state.

"I wish to apologize for my… brash actions earlier," Erik began slowly, being very careful with his word choices. "But you see, one must be hesitant of those who enter his home _uninvited._ "

I nodded my head in short, quick motions, still attempting to find the moisture to bring motion to my tongue.

"Know that I still have many questions for you that _will_ be answered," Erik said firmly as his pacing came to a halt. "Are you prepared to answer?"

"You won't believe me," I pleaded.

He let out a low chuckle, "We shall see about that."

I told him everything.

From the voices, to the asylum, to the years of abuse I've faced at the hands of Doctor Roberts, and even the few glimpses of my childhood that remain within my memories.

I explained that I still could not comprehend how exactly I was arriving in his world. I had no hint towards the real reason of how it happened.

When I went on about the subject of the asylum, his interest seemed to peak. Although, as I went into detail about all the pain I've experienced, the years of torture and abuse, it seemed to anger him. His fists clenched and unclenched over and over again, but he remained silent as I told him of my life.

It was strange… He remained silent, up until the point of me finishing my life story.

He said I could stay.

His entire demeanor had changed. Erik had become peaceful and almost caring towards me, for reasons unknown to me.

But there was one thing that was the strangest out of all that took place.

Erik believed me.


End file.
